By Aster Mengesha Gubay

Mid sip of buna, I chuckled then froze. I couldn’t believe what was happening right before my very eyes. 5 girls huddled around around a round table, small remnants of injera left, and buna/shi in all their hands – the girls looked at me like I was crazy. They had no idea that in that very moment I had just realized something that would help us understand our parents more than ever before.

“Guys.”

“What?”

“I just realized something…”

“Okay… what?”

“We are a becoming our parents. We are literally our fathers and mothers…”

By Aster Mengesha Gubay

 
It’s a Thursday. I wake up to the sounds of neighborhood roosters (my new alarm clock), gather my things, and proceed to my morning stroll through our top view neighborhood to catch a ride to work. All the while, ignoring stares at my fire red rain boots and smiling to myself because I couldn’t believe I was really back in Ethiopia.

In a span of thirty minutes my smile disappeared, I had accidentally stepped in a big puddle of chika (mud), and gotten into a “friendly” argument with my taxi driver. He couldn’t understand why I left America for Ethiopia – apparently saying I wanted to serve my country was not a fitting answer. Then, I slipped on the front steps of my office building with everyone around me reaching out and yelling “ayezosh!”